Page 14 of Broken Vows (Empire City Syndicate #2)

"Finished? Mel, you're carrying a Russo bastard and planning to marry our family's biggest rival on your own terms . No, I'm not fucking finished."

"Then listen to what I learned tonight. The hit on me came through Salvatore Perezzi, but the client had inside information. Someone with access to both families' operations, someone who knew our security protocols and Vincent's meeting schedule."

The silence stretches long enough that I wonder if the call dropped. When Max speaks again, his voice is deadly calm—the tone that means someone's about to die.

"Say that again."

"Someone inside our operation is feeding information to the Perezzis. They knew about my hospital schedule, Vincent's restaurant meeting, even our security rotations. This wasn't random, Max. It was coordinated."

"You're certain?"

"The prisoner confirmed it before Vincent's men eliminated him. Professional level intelligence, premium payment, rush timeline. Someone wanted me dead, and they had help from the inside."

I hear him breathing heavily, can picture him running calculations behind those obsidian eyes. "Where are you now?"

"Vincent's car. Heading back to the compound."

"No. Come to the office. Both of you. If there's a leak in our security, I want to hear this firsthand."

Vincent raises an eyebrow when I relay the message. "Your brother wants to meet?"

"He wants verification. Max doesn't trust anyone's word when it comes to family security, not even mine."

"Smart man." Vincent signals Tony to change direction. "Though I'm surprised he's willing to sit in the same room with me."

"Necessity makes strange allies." I lean back in the leather seat, exhaustion finally hitting me. The adrenaline from the warehouse is fading, leaving behind the bone-deep tiredness that comes with pregnancy and violence in equal measure.

"Regrets?" Vincent asks quietly.

I consider this. Do I regret watching a man die? Participating in torture? Agreeing to marry someone who represents everything I tried to escape? "It’s hard to regret something that doesn’t feel much like a choice."

He laughs, the sound surprisingly warm in the cold confines of the car. "Fair enough."

The Mastroni compound blazes with security lights when we arrive. Armed guards check Vincent's men at the gate, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. One wrong move here and tonight ends in a bloodbath.

Max waits in his office, Maya flanked beside him like a coiled snake. The family's consigliere, an ancient man named Benedetto, sits in the corner taking notes. This is official family business now.

"Vincent." Max doesn't stand, doesn't offer his hand. "You've got five minutes to convince me not to put a bullet in your head for touching my sister."

"Max—" I start, but Vincent raises a hand.

"I understand your position," Vincent says calmly, settling into the chair across from Max's desk like he owns the place. "If someone had compromised my sister and gotten her pregnant, I'd want blood too."

"Then you understand why this conversation is happening at gunpoint." Of course, everyone here is armed. But Maya's voice drips venom. Her hand rests casually near her thigh, where she keeps a throwing knife.

"I also understand that your sister saved both our lives tonight," Vincent continues. "The information she extracted from the Perezzi soldier proves there's a traitor in one of our organizations. Probably yours, given the specificity of the intelligence."

Max's jaw tightens. "Explain."

I take over, calm, emotionless. "The shooter knew my exact schedule at Mount Sinai, including shift changes and break times. He knew Vincent would be at Marcello's restaurant at precisely two o'clock. He knew our security protocols well enough to position his team for maximum impact."

"That could be external surveillance?—"

"Are you serious?" I shake my head. "This level of detail requires someone with regular access to our communications, our planning meetings, our private schedules. Someone we trust."

Benedetto looks up from his notes. "Which of our people knew about the doctor's hospital rotations?"

"Security team leaders, family drivers, household staff." Max lists them without emphasizing any one of them, but I can see him calculating, eliminating possibilities. "Your medical colleagues?"

"None of them know about family business. I've been careful to keep those worlds separate."

"Not separate enough, apparently." Maya's voice is sharp with accusation. "Someone connected the dots."

Vincent leans forward. "The question is whether they're working for the Perezzis directly, or if they're feeding information to someone who is."

"Or if the leak is on your side," Max counters. "Maybe someone in your organization wanted my sister dead and used the Perezzis as cover."

The temperature in the room drops ten degrees. Vincent's expression doesn't change, but something dangerous flickers in his dark eyes. "Careful, Mastroni. You're accusing me of ordering a hit on the mother of my child."

"I'm accusing someone of betrayal. Whether that's you or someone close to you remains to be seen."

I stand before this escalates into violence. "Enough. Fighting each other is exactly what the real enemy wants. Someone tried to kill me and my baby tonight. Someone with access to both families' information. Until we find out who, everyone is a suspect and no one is safe."

Silence settles over the room like a shroud. These men are predators by nature, alphas who don't share territory easily. But they're also pragmatists who understand survival.

"What do you propose?" Max asks finally.

"Marriage alliance," Vincent says simply. "Melinda becomes a Russo officially, which puts her under my family's protection. Our child inherits from both bloodlines, making them too valuable for anyone to harm. And we combine resources to find this traitor."

"And in return?"

"The Russos gain access to your pharmaceutical operations, your medical networks, your legitimate business contacts. Clean money, clean fronts, clean reputation."

Max looks at me. "And what do you get out of this arrangement, Mel?"

The honest answer is complicated. Safety for my child. Protection from enemies I can't fight alone. A chance to channel my darker instincts into something productive rather than destructive. And if I'm being completely truthful, Vincent Russo fascinates me in ways that probably aren't healthy.

"I get to survive," I say simply. "We all do."

Max studies my face for a long moment, reading the subtext I'm not saying aloud.

Finally, he nods. "Three conditions. First, the wedding happens here, on Mastroni territory, with our priest and our security.

Second, any children remain connected to this family—they carry both names, learn both traditions.

Third, if Vincent ever hurts you, I kill him personally. "

"Agreed," Vincent says without hesitation.